America's Turning Point
by issydragonheart
Summary: America is having a flash-back of the Civil War, and how he finally gained the courage to fight against his own people and his new enemy The South. Brief One-shot of what I think America felt during the war.


_18th century, 1863, today Pennsylvania, Battle of Gettysburg_

I watched as men, brothers, sons, and fathers fought one another in this stormy humid weather. Screams and thunder yell in harmony. We were not fighting for our freedom this time... we were fighting for the freedom of others. It was hard to swallow, the amount of death for something so little. I grasped my whitened hands tightly enough that my short nails would pierce my dirt covered skin, blood from my hand dripping onto the already drenched field as I clench my jaw in anger.

" _There is nothing I can do."_ I thought to myself, with regret and sorrow

War is hard to watch, but a civil war is the hardest. Your friends fighting your family, killing, murdering, and grieving over the loss of each other...

I look to my side and see a boy, 13 at most kneeling over a boy covered in a puddle of his own blood mixed in with muddy ground. I overhear the words. "Sam, come on! We promised we go back home together… I-I can't do this without you," the boy said, leaning over Sam. Sam lifted his bloodied hand up shakily, his breaths shallowing as he bleed out into the mud. He rests his dirty hand and lightly brushes his brothers dirty, tear soaked cheek. "..I'm sorry for breaking...our..promise…..," Sam says sobbing, "I..never..wanted to die...Dan, tell mom I...Love-" he coughs violently, his entire body shaking as he tries to finish his final sentence "...her…" In a flash of light along with a boom of thunder, his hand lay limp in the mud his heart no longer beating, his life gone in an instant, like a strike of lightning.. "No...Sam!" Dan screamed in sorrow, tears dripping down his cheeks tries to shake his brother back alive. "Sam! No! Please don't leave me!" Dan whispered, sorrow overcoming his fear of the battle as he collapsed next to his brother.

I look in tears as I realize that I can't just stand back and watch this happen. No more am I going to sit and watch my people die, I am going to fight, and I _am_ going to win. I pick up my Springfield rifle, and stare my enemy in the eye. Adam Jones, smiling down at what he has caused. He smiled at the pain and misery he had caused my people to make his own country. He was also known as the so called the personified Confederate States of America. Adam was born out of the spirit of the souths belief of a new nation. He was everything they stood for. Everything I've despised and needed to stop. After seeing the two brothers raised in such trauma, then, after all the struggle, just to see one die. That was the last straw.

"You can stomp on my name, you can try to hurt me, but I won't stand for you killing of the children of my countries people!" I scream to him as I aim my gun to the nearest confederate.

"We are going to win!" I yell as I pull the trigger, sending the bullet right through his heart.

 _20th century, 2014 today Massachusetts_

 _Beep! Beep!_ I groan, annoyed at having to wake up this early in the morning. I cringe at the light sneaking in through the cracks in the blinds. 7:30, exactly 20 minutes to make it to the world meeting so that makes 15 minutes to get ready and out the door. I thought to myself, pulling myself out of bed. Just to bug the crap out of Iggy (England). I waltz out the door and see two kids across the street playing in their front yard, in their own imaginary battlefield. With their imaginary army, and their imaginary weapons, that will help them out in the win against their Imaginary enemy.

"Come Sam we nearly got them!" one kid yelled.

"One more than we have them down, and then we'll celebrate this victory over some cake!"

I smile and walk to my car, smiling at them. I pull out of the drive was and I turn onto the road. I see the kids, who had just won their battle, through my rearview mirror. They wave at me, then turn and rush into their house to be greeted by their mom.

I continue driving, and begin to notice my vision being blurred by something. I raised one hand to my face to feel streams of tears trickling down my face. When I made it to the building that held the conference I don't know what happened. I was overcome with a sense of relief, sadness, and a little bit of anger at myself. Relieved that they were finally reunited or sadness that their past selves didn't. Then anger that I didn't step into the war when I need to. Really what kind of hero can I be. I may be America, home of the free but I'm no hero. My hand soaked with blood, past acts not taken, or taken too soon. With this much blood scraping at my knees I might as be drowning in it will this much blood around me.

I finally pull myself together by taking deep breaths. I step out of my car to see a very pissed off England.

"Alfred Fucking Jones! Where the Bloody Hell were you! Your 10 minutes late! You left me alone with that bloody perverted frog France! You bloody wanker we had to wa-. Wait America what's wrong?" England's fierce gaze softened at my red eyed appearance. "Come here America...tell me what's wrong..?" England says opening his arms to only be tackled by the taller man. The Tall man shakes in sadness.

England rubs America's back soothingly. As America's sobs grew faint. England asked, "Now America...do you feel better now?" I nodded wiping away the rest of my tears with the sleeve of my jacket.

"No come on you big off we need to get to a meeting. Who knows maybe they already broke out in a fight." England comments sarcastically. I laugh.

"...And America maybe after this..you and I could go and get some coffee?" England says with a pink tint in his cheeks turning his eye direction to the side.

I crack my all american grin and say, "Sure thing Iggy!"

"My Name is not Iggy! Now come on you bloody Yank…We are already late enough." England turns around and walks into the big building complex that held the insane and bizarre personified countries.

"Are you coming or not?" A british voice ailed. I break into smile and raced after him.

~I Am America age 300 centuries. Well Old enough to be you Great-Great-Great-Grandfather. But much sexier…


End file.
